Stench Of Kerosene
Stench of Kerosene
(by Amrita Pritam)
Outside, A MARE NEIGHED. Guleri recognised the neighing and ran out of the house. The mare was from her parent’s village. She put her head against its neck as if it were the door of her father's house.
Guleri's parents lived in Chamba. A few miles from her husband's village which was on high ground, the road curved and descended steeply down-hill. From this point one could see Chamba lying a long way away at one's feet. Whenever Guleri was homesick she would take her husband Manak and go up to this point. She would see the homes of Chamba twinkling in the sunlight and would come back with her heart aglow with pride.
Once every year, after the harvest had been gathered in, Guleri was allowed to spend a few days with her parents. They sent a man to Lakarmandi to bring her back to Chamba. Two of her friends too, who were also married to boys outside Chamba, came home at the same time of the year. The girls looked forward to this annual meeting, when they spent many hours every day talking about their experiences, their joys and sorrows.
They went about the streets together. Then there was the harvest festival. The girls would have new dresses made for occasion. They would have their duppattas dyed, starched and sprinkled with mica. They would buy glass bangles and silver ear-rings.
Guleri always counted the days to the harvest. When autumn breezes cleared the skies of the monsoon clouds she thought of little besides her home in Chamba. She went about her daily chores fed the cattle, cooked food for her husband's parents and then sat back to work out how long it would be before someone would come for her from her parent's village. And now, once again, it was time for her annual visit. She caressed the mare joyfully, greeted her father's servant Natu, and made ready to leave next day.
Guleri did not have to put her excitement into words: The expression on her face was enough. Her husband,
Manak pulled at his hookah and closed his
(by Amrita Pritam)
Outside, A MARE NEIGHED. Guleri recognised the neighing and ran out of the house. The mare was from her parent’s village. She put her head against its neck as if it were the door of her father's house.
Guleri's parents lived in Chamba. A few miles from her husband's village which was on high ground, the road curved and descended steeply down-hill. From this point one could see Chamba lying a long way away at one's feet. Whenever Guleri was homesick she would take her husband Manak and go up to this point. She would see the homes of Chamba twinkling in the sunlight and would come back with her heart aglow with pride.
Once every year, after the harvest had been gathered in, Guleri was allowed to spend a few days with her parents. They sent a man to Lakarmandi to bring her back to Chamba. Two of her friends too, who were also married to boys outside Chamba, came home at the same time of the year. The girls looked forward to this annual meeting, when they spent many hours every day talking about their experiences, their joys and sorrows.
They went about the streets together. Then there was the harvest festival. The girls would have new dresses made for occasion. They would have their duppattas dyed, starched and sprinkled with mica. They would buy glass bangles and silver ear-rings.
Guleri always counted the days to the harvest. When autumn breezes cleared the skies of the monsoon clouds she thought of little besides her home in Chamba. She went about her daily chores fed the cattle, cooked food for her husband's parents and then sat back to work out how long it would be before someone would come for her from her parent's village. And now, once again, it was time for her annual visit. She caressed the mare joyfully, greeted her father's servant Natu, and made ready to leave next day.
Guleri did not have to put her excitement into words: The expression on her face was enough. Her husband,
Manak pulled at his hookah and closed his